


The Official Diary of Armitage Hux

by Pandean



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A - Freeform, Angst, Armitage Hux Being An Asshole, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Armitage Hux is Forced to Keep a Diary, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Diary/Journal, Don't Judge Me, Drama, Fluff, Gen, Humor, I had this idea while on a shitton of klonopin, Kylo Ren Being a Little Shit, The First Order Sucks, the resistance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandean/pseuds/Pandean
Summary: For no apparent reason, Hux is ordered by the new Supreme Leader Kylo Ren to start a diary. It has mixed results.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren/Rey, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Journal Entry #1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the crackfic I thought up of when I was doped on my anti anxiety medication

Dear Diary,

Fuck. I cannot believe I actually fucking wrote that down. Diary. _Diary_. At least let me call it a journal. Let me have some self-respect. Oh. Who am I kidding. That's not going to happen any time soon.

I suppose I should get down to business. The ~~idiot~~ , ~~loathsome~~ , ~~arrogant piece of bantha shit~~ , ~~big eared ape~~ , wise Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has decreed that I write in this stupid little holopad every day. It was only the knowledge he could Force-choke the life out of me that stopped me from smacking the smirk off his face as he held you out to me, satisfied as a smug cat, saying it would be nice for me to have someone to speak to, metaphorically. A friend.

I took you, because orders are orders, but I do not like you. We will not become friends. I do not _need_ friends. I have my nicely starched uniforms, my rousing speeches, and most importantly, my job. That is enough to sustain me. 

And to be completely honest if anyone needs someone a fucking therapist, which is also something I think Kylo means for you to be, it's Kylo himself. Supreme Leader Kylo fucking Ren has so many daddy issues, mommy issues, and weird-force-girl-I've-met-twice-really-but-can't-stop-dreaming-about issues. The man is a therapist's walking wet dream.

Which he should be lucky to be because the man is not going to be anyone else's wet dream. Not with those ears. Weird Force Girls non-withstanding. 

So, diary, I will write in you. But I will not be happy about it.

You are beneath me.

\--Armitage Hux


	2. Journal Entry #2

Dear Diary,

the dry cleaning droids messed up my best shirt. This is the fifth time in about three weeks. Every time I get it it's been pressed and folded in the completely wrong direction as well as inside out. None of the other shirts have been tampered with like this. I am certain someone is out to get me.

It's probably Kylo. It's always Kylo. 

Here I am free to call him whatever I want so I will not call him Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. Because honestly he just doesn't deserve it and Kylo Ren sounds bad enough of a name on its own. 

Like any person with an iota of a brain cell can figure out he just took part of Skywalker and part of Solo and smashed them together to get Kylo. The man has no imagination. 

At least, not when it comes to things other than sabotaging my uniform. He may think he's high and mighty in that ridiculous black fuzzy cloak he likes to wear and he may claim it's superior but nothing is better than a freshly pressed uniform done right. 

So now I have to find out which droid has been sabotaged and obliterate it from existence. It deserves it. Piece of trash.

What else? Well, for the past thirty minutes I've been trying to eat my lunch but have been distracted by the very unpleasant sight of Mitaka trying to woo one of the female radio technicians. She's clearly not into it and I believe if she had a light saber she would go at him like Kylo does to the furniture every other week but sadly she doesn't so she's sticking to ignoring him. I hope she stops. I hope she slaps him. 

Could I court marshal Mitaka for the crime of making me watch him flirt? It's truly that awful. Not only has he slicked back his hair even more than usual but I actually think he's wearing makeup. Which, I mean, no judging. We all have our days. Certain big eared people could actually benefit from a little foundation. But I think whoever gave Mitaka advice was either very bad at their job or out to get him because the man has purple eyelids. Someone has literally convinced him that putting paint on his eyelids was a good idea. He keeps trying to flutter them.

It's making consuming my already military-standard-awful lunch even more awful. I might actually need to throw up.

Actually, I do think I need to throw up. Excuse me.


	3. Journal Entry #3

Dear Diary, 

the entirety of the break room in our wing of the star destroyer has become unusable. why do you ask? because a certain idiot burnt his popcorn and got so angry that he decided a lightsaber to the break room was the only reasonable punishment.

it's his fault, by the way. everyone knows you're not supposed to push the popcorn button. read the box you mook.

but alas, now the smell of burnt popcorn and burnt plastic is everywhere and i shudder to think of how i'll get it out of my clothes. 

currently i've taken refuge amongst the radar technicians in the belly of the ship. they've all seemed very nice so far though i still feel bad for the one Mitaka is chasing after. 

the change of company is good as well. I would prefer to listen to technobabble until my ears fell off than listen to Ren loudly proclaim he was going to kill the scavanger -- wait no, he's going to fuck her, then kill her, wait no he's just going to fuck her, wait what -- over and over until my ears bleed. Surely he knows this isn't proper workroom ettiquette. 

but what can you do. the man was practically raised by a wookie.

Speaking of which, wookie hair is extremely hard to get out of clothing. I don't think my crisp black pants will ever be the same. fucking wookies. 

i haven't had my lunch yet because i've been so busy hiding from the broken microwave issue. like, i know it's my job to fix it but when i was told i would be right hand to the supreme leader i thought my job would be less babysitting a manchild and more ruling the galaxy

am i the fool here? I must ponder on it.

one thing is for certain. I need a raise.


End file.
